Every Night
by Rhona
Summary: This story takes place in Venice while Erik is living with Elisa who he will one day come to know as Carlotta Guidicelli. Elisa has a nightly ritual of which Erik is unaware. Related to “Carlotta: The Story of Her Life”.


Disclaimer: "The Phantom of the Opera" was written by Gaston Leroux. This fan fiction story is based on the musical "The Phantom of the Opera" by Andrew Lloyd Webber and the book "Phantom" by Susan Kay. I have no permission to use the characters and I am making no money out of Leroux/ALW/Kay's work.  
  
Note: This story takes place in Venice while Erik is living with Elisa who he will one day come to know as Carlotta Guidicelli. If you have not read my other story, "Carlotta: The Story of Her Life", then this story will not make much sense.  
  
'The first novel that I read was Notre-Dame de Paris though I struggled with written French; I could speak the language well enough just not read it terribly well. I understood the essence of the story but there were concepts that I could not understand. Lust, the feeling the priest had for the gypsy girl, was one emotion that I had not encountered.'  
  
'A Life Relived', Chapter 3, "Carlotta: The Story of Her Life".  
  
  
  
+ Every Night +  
  
Every night is the same. I watch him sleep on the floor of my apartment. His body is a perfect example of the male physique or at least I believe so. He is thin, agile, and young, possessing arms as strong as iron but as soft as snow. In the moonlight, his body seems to glow. Skin as soft as silk but darkened from exposure to the sun. Naked as newborn babe, he lies on the floor with only a thin white sheet for modesty and a mask for shame.  
  
I long to lie next to him. I ache with a need to have his arms around me. I want to feel his lips on mine, to feel his body in mine.  
  
In my mind he wakes, looking at me with the same hungry desire, and takes me. On the floor our bodies entwine, souls merging into one. I can feel his lips, gentle and domineering. My lip, my neck, my breasts, my abdomen, every part of my body made his. I am helpless to resist. A moan of delight escapes my lips encouraging him to penetrate deeper inside me. Deeper and deeper he goes. I shriek with ecstasy as we reach our climax. The air becomes thick, making it hard to breath. He lies atop me, panting for air. We look into each other's eyes and again find ourselves prey to desire.  
  
As the sun begins to rise, I lie in his arms content for the first time in my life. Time has lost all meaning. Centuries could pass and it would only seem like a moment. We speak softly our words of love to each other and make promises of future bliss. I feel his lips next to my ear whispering words in his native French. Je t'aime. Je t'aime. His hands possessively encircle my hips. My body melts into his. For now and forever, I am his he is mine.  
  
It is only in my mind, though. He is not making love to me. No, he lies on the floor asleep unaware of my impure thoughts. I let my arm stretch out to touch his chest, to feel his heart beat but pull away afraid to wake him. My body makes demands of me, demands that my head will not allow me to act on and for which my heart will never forgive. I have to stop torturing myself, sitting here, late at night, watching him sleep. If I continue, I shall drive myself mad.  
  
Oh God, what price I would gladly pay to have the courage to press my lips to his and wake him with a single kiss. Wake him, my body says. Kiss him. I am mindless slave to my desires. I bend over him ready to do what I know I should not. My heartbeat quickens in anticipation. An inch above his face, I hover. No, my mind screams, this is wrong.  
  
I stand, pushing myself away from his body, disgusted with myself. How close I came to giving in to temptation. He is a friend, nothing more. I should not be here; I should not be violating him in such a way. God, what sort of person gives so easily into temptation? Am I damned for all eternity like the wicked little girl I am?  
  
My shawl tightens in my grip as I stand to leave. In a few hours, the sun will rise and everything will be as it was. Every night is the same. I watch him sleep and wonder if I could do anything more than that but I know I never will. Lust is one emotion with which I am well aquainted. 


End file.
